Krelborn
by suddenlysomewherethatsgreen
Summary: The story of Seymour's life up to events of the musical told in first person.


The very first person I killed was my mother. She died having me. I had blood on my hands when I was less than a minute old. An orphan and cursed from the start.

Because of this, I had to grow up at the Skid Row Home for boys. Nobody there bothered to tell me my mother was dead, not really, and nobody had any clue who my father was. I don't know where I got this stupid idea, but for some reason I thought they'd come back for me some day. I was just there buying time, but one day I'd come home from school and there they'd be sitting on the front steps waiting for me. My ma would wrap her arms around me and my father would tussle my hair. They'd say how much they had missed me and how they'd never let me go again.

The only thing I had from my parent's was my name. I'd later learn it was the last breath my mother had when she named me. "Seymour Krelborn". No middle name. She didn't have enough time.

Nobody ever bothered to use my first name. I didn't realizeI had one for some time. All my guardians called me was a sneered "Krelborn!" I received some other names from the boys in the home. I'd rather not repeat those.

If you can't tell already I didn't have any friends growing up. I was alone in the world. Which was maybe why I grew to like the plants. I was excluded from the games or sports the other boys were always playing. So I would sit in the grass. The yellow dandelions would be my friends. They'd return every year on the small patch of grass in the yard and between the cracks in the sidewalk. They'd listen to what I had to say. They wouldn't talk back or insult or hit me. Plants don't do that kind of thing. They're just there to put a smile on your face. And I learned that if you take care of them, they grow. People might be like that too and maybe that's why I'm short.

There weren't any plants in the city though, and Skid Row had hardly any green. So I was on a never ending quest to find some. I discovered Mushnik's Flower Shop by accident. I guess I got my job by accident too. The green had entranced me. As a child I wandered in, and being the klutz I am it took me all of two minutes to break something. I swear I didn't mean to drop that vase, but that made no difference. I didn't have any money, so Mr. Mushnik told me that I had to work the rest of the afternoon to pay it off. That wasn't the last time I went to the shop. It was my window into green. When I was 11 I noticed that his employee had swiped some cash from the drawer. The boys at The Home had taught me about snitching, but in that moment I didn't care. What he was doing wasn't right, and he shouldn't be getting away with it. He was fired on the spot.

I didn't know that Mr. Mushnik knew the director at The Home, but a week after this incident they called me down to his office and there he was speaking to him. I guess he thought I was an okay sweeper because a week later I moved out.

When I first moved in the shop, the basement was completely void of anything except inventory boxes. And that included a bed. I was used to making due. Under the counter was a much more comfortable place for the time being, and I was so small it didn't really matter so much to me. Slowly, very very slowly, I added coins to an empty coffee tin. My first savings went to buying myself a pair of real glasses. The second went to me buying a bed.

Mr. Mushnik was a bachelor. I think I was the first thing he had ever taken care of. Or at least the first thing without leaves or a stem. I guess he did the best he could. It wouldn't be fair of me to be critical after all he has done for me. A crust of bread, meatloaf and water was something. It was bland and not very filling but it was better than wondering where my next meal came from. He reminded me this often.

It wasn't possible for me to work for Mr. Mushnik and go to school, so I had to stay back. I wasn't even able to wait until the end of the school year. I was left only with half a fifth grade education. If I ever wanted to work anywhere besides Mushnik's Flower Shop they wouldn't have accepted me. I was unqualified. During some dark times I've wondered if Mr. Mushnik had planned that. I hope not. That just seems too cruel.

I'd like to share what it was like growing up in the shop, but to be honest it was dull. There wouldn't be much to share at all. There were times when the shop was doing well for a few months and Mr. Mushnik would hire someone else as well. Someone to build the bouquets because God knows I couldn't. I didn't like any of the employees he hired. Just like the boys in the home, it was very obvious they didn't like me. I couldn't remember all their names now if I tried. None were memorable unless they were particularly awful towards me. More so than the others. Though I spent hours upon hours with them I never found friends. Besides their disinterest in having anything to do with me, I wasn't able to open up. But the thing is I had that same issue with Mr. Mushnik. He never actually tried to open me up though. He never tried to get to know me or treated me like anything other than an employee. Once again, I wasn't "Seymour". I was "Krelborn".

I didn't like girls so much growing up, and even as a teenager. I think this might have concerned Mr. Mushnik, though he never said anything directly. But the thing is, I didn't love anybody, so I didn't like anybody. This didn't stop the actions of others. There were times girls would come into the shop and twirl their hair and bite their lip asking me if this really was the cheapest I could make the flowers. Women would stand on the street corners on Skid Row. They said things to me. Called me "cutie" and asked if I wanted a date. They were nice things they said, and things I have never heard otherwise. But they were never driven by love. Love was never the intention. So I didn't want it. I kept my head down.

I don't think I had ever loved anything, and I know for certain nobody has ever loved me. Even now I can honestly say that I've never even kissed anybody. I wondered what love was like. It probably wasn't the same feelings I had for my plants, or for the stray cat that would scamper by The Home. It was probably a stronger feeling. Was it really like it was in Gene Kelly movies? And would I ever find that out?

I often would ask God the same questions. Why was I even here? What was the purpose? Was it even worth it? He never sent me an answer, but he did send me an angel.

That's exactly what she was. An angel. The only piece of luck that has ever come my way. Her stepping into the shop that day was nothing short of a miracle. I didn't see her face at first. Her back was to me as she was entranced by the green in the shop. But when I got close enough to ask her if she needed help finding anything, I startled her instead and she jumped in surprise. This made me jump and I stupidly dropped the glass vase I was holding and it shattered at her feet. What startled me most was what came next though. She didn't shout at me or groan or kick me or stomp away. Instead she gasped and apologized. I don't know why she felt the need to apologize, I had been the one who had dropped the vase, but she did anyway. Startled by the sound of shattering, Mr. Mushnik had burst in from the back room. She didn't even know me at that point. She didn't even know my name. But for some reason I'll never ever understand, she told him, "Sir, he didn't do it. I broke the vase. I'll pay for it."

I was doomed from the start. It wasn't that she was pretty, but gosh was she. She treated me different than anyone else had before. Right away she started calling me "Seymour". Not even once has she called me "Krelborn". It didn't matter what I did. Whether I dropped a vase, forgot to tell her about an order until the last minute, or spilled potting soil all over her shoes, I was always "Seymour". Never sneered either. She liked when I called her "Audrey" too. It quickly became my favorite name. Audrey looked at me when I spoke to her, and would never toss her hair or roll her eyes at what I had to say. And she'd remember what I'd said too. She didn't talk very much at the start and seemed to tread around me with an odd sense of caution, but soon lightened up. Within a few weeks we were laughing and joking and sharing our stories. I couldn't believe my luck. When that bell on the door rang every morning when she arrived, it was like music to my ears. And the saddest sound was the same bell ringing as she left every evening.

I knew I wasn't supposed to love her. From the first day I met her Mr. Mushnik said, "Forget it, Krelborn. You don't have a chance." I knew that. I knew it was unlikely for her to even become my friend. But to tell you the truth, I did love her. I loved her very much. I still do. I'd never felt that before. It was a weird feeling. I was sad when she wasn't there. When she'd show up late I'd grow worried. Laying awake sometimes I'd look at the clock and count the hours until the shop opened and I'd get to see her again. Waking up in the night I'd sometimes peek out my window and see if her lamp was on and she was awake too. And somehow, no matter what I did she never seemed to leave my mind. This was it. This had to be love. She was the only thing I ever loved.

That didn't make much of a difference. I could never tell her. She was Audrey, lovely Audrey. And I was… well… "Krelborn". Would she laugh at me if I told her how I felt, or would she be angry? Would she stop talking to me, and quit working at the shop to avoid me? Would she be repulsed by even the thought of someone like me? It was such a stupid idea that she'd ever like me back. A boyhood fantasy. So I couldn't tell her. I won't tell her. I just glance at her from across the shop and think it. Because while that hurts, the thought of not having her in my life at all is unbearable.

Winter took a toll on everyone in Skid Row, but I noticed it especially struck Audrey. I don't know if she was unhappy or if there was something going on outside work, but I didn't want to ask because I could see in her eyes that she didn't want to tell me. I didn't want to pry. She looked much more tired than normal. I remember one day I stepped into the back office to see her arms crossed on the table with her head resting on top, fast asleep. After that happened I started making black tea. I never drank it but I knew Audrey did. Audrey loved tea, and when I'd see her eyes begin to droop I'd brew her a cup. It would make her smile, which made me smile too.

She'd show up later than scheduled, by several hours sometimes. And she seemed to be forgetting things. One week she had forgotten her sweater three days in a row and had to come back to the shop in the middle of the night to get it back.

I did ask her once if everything was alright. She responded with a yawn and, "I've just been workin' so much."

Coming to, she looked alarmed as if she had let something slip. This seemed odd but I guess she HAD been working hard. Mr. Mushnik wasn't easy. I offered to help take the load off a bit. I said I could build the bouquets too. We didn't have to tell Mr. Mushnik that. I wasn't very good at it, and still struggle, but I told her that by watching her I was learning. She smiled at me.

Summer was when the laughter truly left her eyes. It broke me to watch. She was being clumsy too. She'd come into work with a scrape on her arm, and tell me she fell on the sidewalk. The split lip was from walking into a door. I thought I was the only one who was that clumsy. It was a fib, and my stupid self didn't catch on until she had been hurt for some time. There was a guy. Some guy I had never met and Audrey spoke of only rarely. He was her boyfriend. He was the one making those bruises.

It made my blood boil. How could someone hurt someone so gentle and sweet as Audrey? Sweet and good and beautiful as she is, she deserves a prince. Not a sadistic creep like him. Poor Audrey would never hurt a fly, or even a leaf if she could help it. But what can I do? What can I say? I feel just as trapped and bruised as she is. It hurts me to see her hurting. I haven't been able to smile lately because it's been so long since I've seen hers.

This is easily the hardest thing I've ever had to do. The daily torment from the boys at the home, the occasional beating from a slip up, sleeping under the counter until my back ached. Nothing hurt me like watching Audrey hurting.

I still do what I can to make her laugh or even smile. For some reason she has an interest in my plant collection when I thought I was the only one. There's one in particular I had found the other day she finds fascinating. She's been pushing me to show it to Mr. Mushnik and tell him to advertise it in the window. I still haven't been able to find it in any of my plant textbooks and I've been looking hard. Audrey says that I may have discovered a new species, which means I get to name it. Name it whatever I want. I think I have an idea.


End file.
